he hour of his distress, avenged their
wrongs, or forgot their obligations. He proudly displayed the ensigns of
royalty; but the city and palace of Modain had already escaped from
the hand of the tyrant. Among the victims of his cruelty, Bindoes, a
Sassanian prince, had been cast into a dungeon; his fetters were broken
by the zeal and courage of a brother; and he stood before the king at
the head of those trusty guards, who had been chosen as the ministers
of his confinement, and perhaps of his death. Alarmed by the hasty
intrusion and bold reproaches of the captive, Hormouz looked round,
but in vain, for advice or assistance; discovered that his strength
consisted in the obedience of others; and patiently yielded to the
single arm of Bindoes, who dragged him from the throne to the same
dungeon in which he himself had been so lately confined. At the first
tumult, Chosroes, the eldest of the sons of Hormouz, escaped from the
city; he was persuaded to return by the pressing and friendly invitation
of Bindoes, who promised to seat him on his father's throne, and who
expected to reign under the name of an inexperienced youth. In the just
assurance, that his accomplices could neither forgive nor hope to be
forgiven, and that every Persian might be trusted as the judge and enemy
of the tyrant, he instituted a public trial without a precedent and
without a copy in the annals of the East. The son of Nushirvan, who had
requested to plead in his own defence, was introduced as a criminal into
the full assembly of the nobles and satraps. He was heard with decent
attention as long as he expatiated on the advantages of order and
obedience, the danger of innovation, and the inevitable discord of those
who had encouraged each other to trample on their lawful and hereditary
sovereign. By a pathetic appeal to their humanity, he extorted that pity
which is seldom refused to the fallen fortunes of a king; and while they
beheld the abject posture and squalid appearance of the prisoner,
his tears, his chains, and the marks of ignominious stripes, it was
impossible to forget how recently they had adored the divine splendor of
his diadem and purple. But an angry murmur arose in the assembly as soon
as he presumed to vindicate his conduct, and to applaud the victories
of his reign. He defined the duties of a king, and the Persian nobles
listened with a smile of contempt; they were fired with indignation
when he dared to vilify the character of Ch